


Safety first

by AngelofDarkness1605



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:12:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4102273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelofDarkness1605/pseuds/AngelofDarkness1605
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Librarian Belle French gets in trouble at the newly opened obstacle course in town. Under his son’s insistence, Mr. Gold feels compelled to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"This is  _awesome_ ," Neal exclaims while they watch what appears to be half of the citizens of their usually so quiet town enthusiastically make their way among the ropes, steps and beams that have been placed among the trees at a previously unused plot of land at the edge of town. "Can I go too, papa?"

"I don't think so," the landlord replies, eying the new construction with distrust. He estimates the majority of the obstacle course to be at a height of at least fifteen feet.

"I'd really like to go," his son says quietly, taking his father's hand.

"I know, son," Mr. Gold sighs. "Just wait until you're a bit older. Then you can go as often as you like."

 _And wait until you're a bit taller and stronger_ , the landlord thinks, looking at his small boy. No matter how well he feeds his son and encourages him to play outside and do sports, there seems to be no overcoming the genes that his son unfortunately seems to have inherited from him.

It would help, too, if the other children in town wouldn't shun Neal because of his father. Mr. Gold is very much aware that the majority of his son's class is currently on the course and that they haven't invited Neal.

The landlord can only barely refrain from putting his fingers in his ears when a group of young women jump over a considerable gap between two ledges with nothing but a rope for support, shrieking loudly as they go. It reminds him just how crowded it is at this opening event, and that he dislikes the people there as much as they loathe him.

"Let's go back home, my boy. You've seen the new obstacle course now, just like you wanted to."

"Let's watch for just another moment?" Neal asks, still taking in the course and the people moving over it with wide, eager eyes.

"Of course," he says, not wanting to disappoint his son yet more.

His attention is drawn to a somewhat lonely figure who is ahead of a group of classmates of Neal but lags behind the other young women he presumes she's with. The landlord almost doesn't recognize her without her usual high heels and neat blouses and skirts, but when she turns her head he realizes that the woman in the bright blue top and sport shoes, her hair tied back in a ponytail beneath her safety helmet, is in fact the town's librarian.

She doesn't move even as he continues to watch, other than to wrap her arms around the tree that carries to the small platform she's currently standing on. It's as if she's clinging to the only support that her current position has to offer.

"Ruby?" she calls out to the group of women ahead of her. "Ashley?"

The women in question continue making their way over a narrow beam, chatting loudly, oblivious to their friend's exclamation.

"Ruby!"

Both women reach the end of the beam and get on the small wooden platform next to it, almost identical to the one the librarian is standing on. They prepare for the next obstacle, still not hearing their companion despite her considerably louder tone.

"Is Miss French in trouble?" Neal asks, following his gaze.

"I don't know, son."

"I think she is."

"Sir?" she asks, this time addressing an indifferent looking crew member walking on the ground on the other side of the course, who may or may not pretend not to hear her.

Before Mr. Gold can determine what might happen if he agrees out loud with his son that it does indeed look like the librarian requires help, a ridiculously tall and broad, gum chewing figure makes his way with slow purposefulness towards the tree which houses the librarian.

"I'll come get you, babe."

The landlord's lip curls up in distaste at… well, at  _everything_ about Sean Gaston.

"Don't 'babe' me, Sean," the librarian replies, her voice tight.

"I don't think she likes him," Neal whispers.

"I don't think so either," Mr. Gold says, experiencing something that couldn't possibly be compassion for Miss French as the scene in front of his son and himself unfolds.

"How about I come up there and help you out?" the disrespectful idiot asks, flexing his muscles.

"That would be quite appreciated, thank you."

"I'll save my damsel in distress,  _if_  the little lady gives the gallant hero a kiss in thanks for rescuing her."

" _Ewwww_ ," Neal hisses when the overly muscled oaf puckers his lips. Mr. Gold is almost tempted to react exactly the same way, looking in shocked disbelief at the other man.

"In that case, I'd much rather stay up here," Miss French replies, the tension in her voice audible.

"Don't be like that! It's not like you have another choice by the looks of it."

"I don't want your help any longer, Sean. Leave me alone."

"You'll change your mind soon enough, babe, I know you will!" he exclaims, sprinting to the beginning of the course without buying a ticket, shoving children out of his way as he goes. "I'll be with you in a moment."

"Papa, you've  _got_  to help Miss French," his son says insistingly, his gaze never leaving the woman who looks like she is rather stuck in a tree than being helped down by the man who is rushing towards her, possibly to kiss her against her will.

"I should, shouldn't I?" he mutters, more to himself than to his son.

"There's a ladder right there," Neal says, pointing at the item in question which lies below the course, only a short distance away from them. "You can be a  _real_ hero."

Mr. Gold suppresses the urge to tell his son that he is anything but a hero, real or otherwise, while he makes his decision. Still, it's surprisingly easy to make up his mind, even while he tells himself that he wouldn't have made this choice if it had been anyone other than her, the librarian who greets him every time she sees him - who even  _smiles_ at him, the only person other than his son to ever do so.

Taking a deep breath and making certain that no one is looking at him, the landlord steps over the fortunately low fence that separates the grounds below the obstacle course from the area for spectators.

He tightens his hold on his cane and forces sudden nervousness away when she spots him long before he has reached her, watching him the whole way as he approaches her.

"Do you require assistance, Miss French?" he asks when he is almost right in front of the tree which carries the small wooden platform where she's still standing motionlessly.

"I do, Mr. Gold. My safety wires got entwined so I'm stuck and… well, I'm not  _afraid_ , but… It's a bit higher up here than I thought. I need to let go with both my hands of the tree to fix the wires and continue along the entire course to get to the way down. I know that, and I  _want_ to do that, but I… I  _can't_."

The landlord inwardly shivers, her words reminding him of paralyzing panic that he only knows too well.

"There's a ladder right here, Miss French. I can climb up to assist you."

"You do know that I can't repay you for this, do you?" she asks, glancing in the direction of Sean Gaston.

Mr. Gold does the same, relieved to see that the admittedly athletic brute can't surpass the school children who haven't nearly caught up with the librarian yet.

"Payment is not required," he says stiffly, uncharacteristically. He can't help but wonder, no matter how briefly, whether she was also referring to the sort of compensation that the oaf demanded. "Consider my assistance a favor to my son."

It may not hurt, but it definitely stings that the kind-hearted librarian doesn't forget about his reputation even in a situation like this.

"I won't pretend to understand how this is of any benefit to Neal, but if you can get me out of here without asking something from me which I can't or won't give you, I'd be  _very_ grateful if you will."

"I'll be back in a minute," he says, realizing only then that there's no way that he can carry the ladder on his own to the right spot, let alone position it against the tree.

When he turns around, he sees his son approaching him, dragging the heavy ladder behind him. Although he isn't quite happy that the boy hopped onto the grounds and took the ladder without his permission, Mr. Gold nods at him in approval.

The two of them manage to put the ladder up against the tree and extend it far enough to reach the platform. Everything is going remarkably well, until it fully dawns at last on the landlord that nothing is quite solved yet now that they have put the ladder up, that someone actually has to go  _up_ to release Miss French from the safety wires… that  _he_ has to climb up the long ladder.

He  _could_ ask one of the crew members - they must be around  _somewhere_ \- to help Miss French back down, but they won't be able to reach her before Sean Gaston does. Although he can't understand it and doesn't  _want_ to just yet, there's an unexplained protectiveness welling up inside of the landlord when he thinks of the buffoon who is making his way towards the librarian despite her explicit disapproval.

"You can do it, papa!" Neal exclaims, all pride and blind faith.

Mr. Gold swallows heavily as he casts a glance at Sean Gaston to make certain that the oaf is still at a reasonable distance, too busy to get past the school children to notice him. Thinking of the sweet smiles of Miss French, he leans his cane against the tree. Firmly grasping the ladder as high as he can with both hands, he takes the first step.

The muscles in his arm proving to be stronger than expected, the landlord barely has to use his bad leg at all in order to make his way upward. Even climbing onto the narrow platform is hardly a challenge, because Miss French offers him one hand to help him up while she remains holding on with the other.

Then again, that final part of the climb isn't all that easy considering the fact that the grasp of her hand on his is hot and clammy and entirely accepting.

"I'm so glad you're here," she says while he straightens himself and takes hold of the nearest rope, giving him a watery smile.

"Let's see how this works," he mutters as he studies the safety wires that connect her to the course, not needing to remind himself that this is one of the very few situations where his appearance would actually delight her.

To his surprise, the whole system looks a lot more secure and sturdier than he would have thought, including the neatly placed natural materials that form the course, the harness she wears and the double safety wires which connect the harness to the thin steel cable above the course.

Not allowing himself to look down, Mr. Gold steps closer towards her on the small platform, hoping that she'll understand that there's no other way to undo the wires which prevent her from climbing down the ladder.

"My apologies, Miss French," he says quietly, trying not to notice how the lapels of his black coat brush against her brightly colored sporting clothes and bare arms, almost as if his darkness taints her liveliness… her  _loveliness_.

"Don't worry about it," she just says, as if it doesn't bother her in the slightest to be in such close proximity to him.

"Just one more moment and you'll be able to get back to the ground," he says, giving in to the strange urge to reassure her.

"Great," she says, not seeming to tense when he questioningly reaches up, telling himself that he needs to keep his gaze solely on the point where the wires connected to her harness are attached to the steel cable overhead.

He has to stand on his toes to reach and unlock the carabiners that keep her harness attached to the cable above them, being as slight as he is, but he can just reach them without losing his balance and…

The landlord almost yelps when there is a light pressure on his waist, warmth seeping into his skin through the thick layers he's wearing. Looking down in bewilderment, he finds two pale, small hands touching him unceremoniously.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have just… But you aren't wearing any protective clothing and we  _are_ up in a tree and..."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," he manages to reply, bewildered yet more by her apparent intention to keep him safe than by the fact that she touches him willingly.

"Is it all right with you if I keep touching you like this, just in case?"

The landlord nods in response, not trusting his voice as he continues his work.

"I really appreciate that you do this, Mr. Gold."

If he didn't know any better, he'd swear that she steps slightly closer to him, as if his nearness is as comforting to her as her hands on his sides are to him.

"There you go," he says shakily when he lowers the safety wire that kept her tied to the course.

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice intoxicatingly near.

Mr. Gold can't help but look at her at last, meeting her gaze for the first time since he climbed up the small platform. He's never seen her from this close - in fact, he has seen very few people from such a short distance - and he's almost blown away by her loveliness.

Forgetting everything except for her small smile and gorgeous eyes, he can't help but stare at her, his heartbeat further increasing. It's a good thing that she still has her hands on his sides, for his very knees appear to buckle when he all but drowns in her blue, sparkling depths.

"We probably should go down," she says quietly, after what might be a few seconds or a few minutes.

"Yes, of course!" he hurriedly replies, but not before noting how melodic her voice is, how gentle and lovely and… "I'll have to get down first. There's no way we can turn here."

"That's fine. But can you give me a hand to help me sit down here and get on the ladder? I'm very glad that you got me a shortcut, but I'm a bit afraid of climbing over the edge."

"Of course," he says again, by now not even questioning any longer this sudden, unexplainable urge to assist her in any way he can.

That's probably the reason that he doesn't think twice when he gets on his knees on the platform, leaning against the tree trunk next to him for support while he offers her his hand to help her sit down as well.

When she is in the same position as he is and gratefully smiles at him once more, the landlord carefully moves backwards, hardly aware that he has to unpleasantly dangle his good leg over the edge of the platform to feel around for a step of the ladder and that he encounters nothing but air for a few long seconds.

Indeed, with her bright eyes focused solely on him it's like someone stronger and braver than himself has taken over when he quite easily gets back on the ladder. Extending his hand to her once more, he helps her to the edge as well before he climbs down a few steps to make room on the ladder for her as well.

The librarian has more difficulty than he did to place her feet on the first step. The landlord himself however feels like he's falling rather than standing when she requests him to guide her foot to the nearest step, when his shaking right hand lets go of the ladder to let his undeserving fingers brush against her bare, impossibly soft ankle for a moment to show her the way.

He feels like he is floating rather than climbing down when she thanks him, managing to continue her way down to the ground with considerably less difficulty.

"Babe, what the hell are you doing!?"

Sean Gaston's booming, vaguely threatening voice coming from the course above them thoroughly startles both of them just when Mr. Gold reaches the end of the ladder and steps back onto the ground… and just when one of her legs and one of her arms is in mid-air, several feet above safety.

The librarian shrieks in shock, her limbs which are still on the ladder lose their grip. Without thinking about it at all, the landlord moves right beneath her when she falls down.

His entire body screams in protest when he intuitively catches her, pain throbbing in his bad leg in particular. But once more, Mr. Gold is oblivious to the discomfort, all of his attention on the woman who he is now for all intents and purposes holding in his arms. One of her own arms has ended up around his neck when she reached for anything that might soften her fall.

Breathing heavily with shock and exertion, he stares right back at her when she takes him in with eyes which are wide with what must be horror she feels after falling and being caught by  _him_. He should put her down quickly but carefully, to make an end to this highly unexpected and inappropriate moment.

But he's got two armfuls of warm,  _soft_ Belle French pressing against his chest, her beautiful face mere inches away from his, and he can't move to save his life. She still can, evidently, but rather than breaking free from his wholly unplanned embrace, she tightens her hold on him and  _smiles_.

Whatever courage came over him is gone abruptly now that their interaction goes far beyond only assisting her. In fact, he can't even prevent his mouth from falling open at her reaction.

"You really are a knight in shining armor, aren't you?" she asks softly, undeniably  _affectionately_ , her smile widening.

"Miss French, I…"

Mr. Gold has no idea what to say, what to  _think_ …  _how_ to think or say anything. All he can do is  _feel_ , the heat of her body seeping into his, one of her breasts being not quite lightly pressed against his chest, the disturbing fluttering sensations somewhere deep inside of him. Even her scent reaches him and…

"... the  _hell_ are you doing?"

Sean Gaston's thunderous voice reaches their bubble, bursting it mercilessly. Looking away from her alluring eyes, the landlord sees that the brute has almost reached the platform where the two of them just were.

"I'm being helped by an actual gentleman," she yells back, right when Mr. Gold awkwardly puts her back down to the ground after all.

"But he is…"

"Probably a better man than you will ever be," she replies without hesitation before the other man can use any doubtlessly highly unflattering words to describe him, no matter how deserved quite some of them will probably be.

"Papa, we should pull down the ladder and put it back from where we got it." During the ordeal with the librarian Mr. Gold has momentarily forgotten about his son, but now he finds the boy pulling at his sleeve with a too innocent face. "The ladder doesn't belong here after all. It could confuse people, making them think they have to climb down here instead of completing the course."

"Good idea," he replies, smiling a little.

There's no doubt in his mind that Neal knows as well as he does that this will trap Sean Gaston on the course, forcing him to use the regular way out even though the reason why he got onto the course in the first place is currently safely standing next to them.

Often, he wonders how the honest and brave boy can possibly be his son… and sometimes, like right now, he does not.

That's how father and son, with the cheerful librarian's assistance, put the ladder back from where it came just before the by now screaming man can reach it. As they work like a team, almost like a  _family_ , Mr. Gold experiences a lightness inside of him which he hasn't felt for a very long time, if ever. It's as wonderful as it is unnerving… and it isn't nearly enough.

To behold the librarian's gorgeous smile is more than he ever could have hoped for, but the landlord can't help but wish that there would be a reason to hold her again, to let her warmth and softness brighten his being - his very  _life_  - once more.


	2. Chapter 2

"Well, that's a relief," the librarian says, voicing Mr. Gold's own thoughts when a loudly complaining Sean Gaston is being escorted off the grounds by no less than three crewmen.

The landlord might be hardly impressed by the employees of the new obstacle course who collectively failed to notice – or to care about - the problems she had with her equipment, but at least they acted without hesitation when the brute continued to harass the librarian.

"Miss French, if he bothers you again, no matter where and no matter when… will you let me know?" Mr. Gold offers, not only because he can practically feel his son's insistent gaze. "I'd be happy to help you to… to show him his place."

"I have no doubt that you remember the first time I said this, but… I would really appreciate your help in case Sean still hasn't learned his lesson, but I've got nothing to give you in return."

"Consider it a favor."

"Another favor?"

Mr. Gold falters. He  _knows_ his reputation, carefully cultivates it in fact, but every once in a long while he wishes that people wouldn't expect anything but cruelty and ruthlessness from him.

"Yes, another favor," he confirms firmly.

He doesn't say that it's hardly a favor at all when she casually rests her hand on his lower arm for a moment to wordlessly thank him, as if it's only normal for her to touch the most feared man in town with such blissful familiarity.

"Have you been on the course yet, Neal?" she asks, addressing his son as she slips her hand off his arm, much to his unrevealed disappointment.

"I haven't," the boy says, glancing at his father.

Mr. Gold's heart clenches in love and admiration for the boy when there isn't an ounce of accusation in his son's voice, although he inwardly trembles with guilt when the librarian asks her next question.

"Don't you want to go on it?"

"I do," Neal replies quietly, "but I'm not old enough."

"I'm quite certain you  _are_ old enough," she says gently, "and you're probably tall enough as well."

"I forbade him to go, Miss French," the landlord interrupts, knowing that this is difficult enough for Neal as it is.

"Why?" she asks, without a trace of irony or accusation.

All words of his son being too young or too small are stuck in the landlord's mouth when he looks into the open, so very beautiful blue eyes of the librarian. It  _is_ true that he thinks that the boy isn't old, strong and tall enough to scale the obstacle course, but the real reason he doesn't want his son to go anywhere near the structures in the trees goes back to a much more fundamental issue.

"Because I don't want him to get hurt," he replies softly, looking at the boy who he loves like no-one and nothing else in the world.

"He won't get hurt, Mr. Gold. It's perfectly safe."

He would disagree with her if only he hadn't seen the structure and the safety measures taken for himself only a moment ago,when he climbed onto the course himself to help her get down.

"The minimum age is  _ten_  years," she says quietly but meaningfully, looking straight at the infamous landlord. "Besides, Neal is tall enough. Believe me, I know the specifications for minimum length."

The fact that he considers just how petite the librarian is now that she isn't wearing heels rather than reminding her that it's not up to her to decide whether his son goes on the obstacle course or not underscores his strange fondness of her… and the trust he seemingly puts in her judgment, even with regards to his son.

Then again, maybe he just needed a good reason to give Neal permission to go after all now that helping Miss French down inadvertently persuaded him of the safety of the obstacle course after all.

"You know, I think I'd like to try the course again now that I know how the safety lines actually work," she says, smiling rather mischievously in a way that shouldn't make his heart feel strange in his chest. "I'm certain that Neal will be perfectly fine if he goes with someone to supervise him…"

"Can I, papa?" the boy asks, looking up at him with big, begging eyes. "Please?"

Mr. Gold doesn't know whether it's his own, already changed opinion on the whole structure, his son's plea or the librarian's smile that finally sways him, but there's definitely something in that combination that has him sighing mockingly in defeat.

"Very well, go if you must," he tells his son. "But promise that you'll be careful."

"I promise," Neal says solemnly. "I'll stay near Miss French all the time, so she can keep an eye on me."

"He'd be yet safer if said supervision were to be provided by  _two_ accompanying adults," the librarian says, wiggling her eyebrows at him in a way that has something inside of him fluttering in a highly alarming manner.

"Surely you aren't suggesting for  _me_ to go on there as well…" he all but stutters at the implication... at the  _invitation,_ almost.

"Why not? You did great with that ladder. I bet you'd do wonderful on the actual course as well."

The notion of him engaging in such a physical activity is ridiculous, of course.  _Utterly_ ridiculous. But his son would love this and… well, somehow, the librarian looks like she would like it very much as well if he were to join the two of them.

Indeed, this does seem like tempting fate unnecessarily, but on the other hand, there are quite some things he would do to be able to assist her once more, to have the odd chance of feeling her body close to his again. The awareness that he will probably need  _her_ help rather than the other way around this time, and the expectation that she will be perfectly happy to assist him, makes the prospect of the three of them going over the obstacle course only more appealing.

"Why don't you get both of us a ticket, son?"

His decision is worth whatever consequences it may have when Neal actually jumps up and down in excitement and the librarian beams brightly at him. As soon as he has handed his son the required money, the boy runs off to get the tickets.

"I suppose you didn't bring more comfortable clothing?"

Only at her question Mr. Gold realizes that, in addition to his leg, his usual attire also isn't very suitable for conquering an obstacle course. Still, he'd rather ruin a set of perfectly good clothes than being seen in anything less than impeccable.

Then again, when she reaches for his tie with a questioning look in her eyes, the landlord couldn't care less what he's wearing. Enchanted, he nods slightly in response to her unspoken question, swallowing heavily when she matter-of-factly starts to undo the knot he routinely made that morning.

"I've wondered what it would be like to do this," she says, still smiling that impossible smile of hers.

Her words are lost on him however; they simply don't register in his mind now that the back of her fingers brush against his throat as she rather clumsily carries out her self chosen task at the same time, like she doesn't know that no one,  _no one_ other than his son ever touches him.

"Much better, isn't it?" is all she says when she casually pulls the tie off his neck at last and hands it to him. "Although you'll probably be more comfortable if you take off at least your coat as well."

That's how the landlord ends up shrugging out of his coat and taking off his suit jacket and waistcoat as well under her intent gaze, barely aware that he simply hangs the tailor made fabric over a nearby low branch of a tree.

Mr. Gold has to forcefully remind himself that she's only preparing him to supervise his son and that the gratitude she expressed earlier doesn't go beyond the way he helped her get away from the brute who bothered her. Really, it's even worse of him to wish for things between him and Miss French that can never be now that she already had to deal with a man who bestowed unwanted attention on her.

"You're almost there," she says, taking in his appearance. He feels positively naked without most of his usual protective layers… which makes it only stranger that she looks at him with approval. "Except for one last thing."

He's too far gone to object when she reaches tentatively for the top button of his dress shirt. At her expectant look, he nods in confirmation, having to suppress the urge to shudder when she undoes the button right beneath his throat… and the one beneath that, revealing the blue undershirt he wears underneath. He's relieved and strangely disappointed alike when she withdraws her hands straight afterwards.

If only she hadn't taken her hands off him… indeed, if only they were somewhere private and comfortable, and if none of this would be what it actually is. It's shockingly easy to imagine the two of them in his house or, better yet, his remote cabin, the bed right next to them as Miss French slowly but surely undresses him, her eyes still expressing approval rather than disgust when she exposes his unworthy body to her hungry gaze one button at a time.

Mr. Gold swallows heavily, wishing the highly inappropriate images and desires out of his mind as heat rushes to his cheeks. To his shame, not all of the redness coloring his face is caused by sheer embarrassment and disgust over finding himself fantasizing over the beautiful woman in the first place.

"Are you having second thoughts?" she asks, her expression softening yet further. "I mean, I obviously don't mean to push you into anything you don't want to do. If you don't want to go, please say so. I'll keep an eye on your son on your behalf."

"It's perfectly all right, Miss French," he says, not allowing himself to ponder the ever growing ridiculousness of the situation.

It's entirely correct that he shouldn't go onto the obstacle course at all, yet more so than before. The limitations of his own body aside, it's simply not a good idea to begin with to engage in an activity of any kind, let alone such a physical one, with the woman he unwillingly finds himself craving in a way he has never longed for anyone before.

"Wonderful. I'm really looking forward to doing this with the two of you, you know. I bet  _you_ wouldn't abandon me on, unlike people who call themselves my friends."

"I'm afraid that you're really overestimating the value of our company," he forces himself to say, getting more and more confused by her. "My son is a good boy, I agree, but  _I_ …"

"You're telling me that there isn't a wholly fascinating and surprisingly good man lurking behind the facade of the type of landlord and pawnbroker you pretend to be?" she asks, having the audacity to  _wink_  at him.

"Miss French, I… you…"

He has no idea how to respond to that, no idea whatsoever. More than ridiculous, these proceedings are getting outright  _bizarre_ … and he can't even determine whether, deep down, he dislikes it or not.

"One more thing," she says, loosening the harness she's still wearing as if she doesn't have the slightest idea what she's doing to him. "This might make it easier for you."

Before he can wonder whether she intends for him to take off yet more clothing, she slips out of her harness and hands it to him.

"The safety instructor is going to tell you later how to put it on," she explains, "but I already know how it works, and they'll check it anyway. Maybe you prefer to get it on already? I can easily take the one that Neal will bring for you."

She glances at his cane and his faith in her increases yet further when he realizes that she offers him the chance to get into the harness without his son having to witness the trouble his bad leg is probably going to give him while doing so.

"Thank you, Miss French," he says, taking the contraption from her. It looks safer but also more complicated than he initially thought.

"These are going around your upper legs, and that goes around your waist," she says, pointing at the parts of the harness in question.

His comprehension increases when it dawns on him that it will be more difficult to get into it than he anticipated, with the straps which are meant to go around his legs being as tight as they are, even though she has loosened them as much as possible. Not to mention that he will have to step into both the small openings where his legs are meant to go  _and_ pull the harness up around himself without falling over.

"Let me help you," she says, casually kneeling down in front of him to assist him before he is remotely ready to formulate a response. "You can lean on me, if you like."

That's how Mr. Gold ends up having his feet carefully directed by the librarian, both his hands resting on her shoulders for balance which he needs more than ever before when she subsequently pulls the harness along his legs, guiding it with her hands.

He hates himself for it, but the landlord can't help but wonder what it might be like if Belle French were to be in front of him like this in an entirely different situation, willing and  _wanting_ , touching and stroking and  _caressing,_ her hands and her  _mouth_ making their way up his legs all the way to...

Mr. Gold shakes his head, trying to free himself from those forbidden thoughts, grinding his teeth and clenching his fist. He is almost tempted to think that she has an ulterior motive - after all, she  _has_ to have one, to touch him like this - but her smile is apologetic when she tugs the harness in place and begins to tighten the straps, as if  _he_ is the one who should be upset to have her hands over him like this.

Still, when her fingers brush his abdomen when she fastens the straps there, he is definitely starting to think that she's trying to kill him at the very least.

"I'll do that, thank you very much," he says brusquely - too brusquely.

Her eyes are wide with shock and he's grateful for it – or so he tells himself. Let her think that he is rude and doesn't want her help... that he doesn't want her  _touch_ , her assistance.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Mr. Gold!" she cries out in horror while his usually so skilled and certain fingers fumble with the straps. "I shouldn't have presumed that I could touch you like that."

"You… you did nothing wrong, Miss French," he manages to bring out despite himself, although he prefers her to think that she has taken too much liberty with his person rather than that she knows exactly how her lack of propriety affects him.

Relieved when she relaxes at his reassurance, there's no denying that seeing her upset is yet worse than the thoughts that his wandering, perverted mind conjures. It really seems like he is doomed either way, before they have even gotten near the obstacle course that started all this trouble.

It's a blessing to say the least when his son returns at that very moment with a crew member in tow. To his relief, it's someone from out of town who only raises an eyebrow over his appearance when she hands them the remaining equipment.

Putting the safety helmet on his head, Mr. Gold is mostly oblivious to the safety instructions and rules that the employee rattles off at an admirable speed. Neal is paying rapt attention and the landlord assumes that Belle already knows how the system of safety wires and carabiners work. And if she doesn't… well, at this point he is quite certain that he's going to plummet to his doom at any rate whether or not he will make his way through the course in one piece.

The landlord only becomes aware that the safety lesson is over when Neal practically drags him to the beginning of the by now blissfully quiet starting point of the obstacle course.

"This is so exciting!" his son cries out when they arrive at the first rope ladder.

"It is," the librarian agrees, looking straight at the landlord.

"After you," he says, gesturing for her to go first and for Neal to follow her.

Taking a deep breath, Mr. Gold begins to climb as well when it is his turn, sensing that all of this is going to be either the best or the worst choice he has made in a considerable time.


	3. Chapter 3

"Can I go first?!" Neal asks as soon as Mr. Gold has made his way onto the first platform of the obstacle course with as much dignity as he can muster.

"How about Miss French going first?" he suggests while he looks questioningly at the librarian, who smiles at them like there's nothing she'd rather do than brave the obstacle course - the very one that she got stuck on only a short while ago - in the company of the most feared man in town and his equally shunned son.

"That's fine with me," she replies, carefully treading onto the narrow steps leading to the next platform. "I'll feel a lot safer when Neal is right behind me."

His son beams and the landlord gives her a small smile in gratitude. It takes him a second to realize that she's probably horrified to have  _him_ smiling at her - only for her to mirror his expression in unexplainable but obvious sincerity.

Rather than lingering on that - or at least, not while they're fifteen feet in the air - Mr. Gold focuses on the almost tangible excitement and joy of his son now that the boy gets to experience the obstacle course after all.

Indeed, it's a small price to pay that this means that the landlord himself has to go as well, not allowing himself to consider the discomfort and the whole indignity of it when he follows Neal and the librarian over a variety of wooden steps, which all wobble precariously underneath his no longer impeccable shoes.

He's panting before they've covered even a quarter of the course, his endurance in yet worse shape than he thought. But more than anything, there's something thrilling and alarmingly breathtaking about the radiant expression of the woman without whom they wouldn't be here in the first place.

"Why don't we let Neal go first so the grown ups can catch their breath a little?" Miss French suggests, glancing at the landlord. "I'd say he's proven he can handle himself here."

"Can I, papa?" the boy asks, bouncing on the narrow planks they're standing on.

"You can, but only if you wait for us before going off the course," he replies, looking with some trepidation at the considerable zip line at the ending of the route.

"I promise!" Neal exclaims, already moving once more.

"Do we need to slow down, or do you want to take a break?" she asks as soon as Neal is out of earshot, glancing at him with wholly undeserved concern.

"Going a bit slower would be good, yes," he replies, not wanting to admit that taking a break - a lengthy one - would be a preferable option.

"Let's do that. Do you want to go first and set the pace?"

"No thank you, Miss French," he says, not wanting to admit either that he likes to follow her, if only so he can see how she places her hands and feet to tackle the course and thus copy her example.

Then again, there's no way that that's going to be of any use when they reach the next obstacle, a net spreading from the platform they're currently standing on all the way to the next ledge. Neal is already past it, but for the landlord there's no way that he'll be able to do the same thing, since it'll require him to use both of his hands and both of his already aching, yet more useless than usual legs.

Miss French scrambles onto this next part of the course without second thought, also easily making it to the other end without any trouble whatsoever. He feels yet worse about his lacking physique when she turns around to look how he is doing as soon as she is on the next platform, her smile falling when she sees that he isn't following.

"I don't think I can do this," he admits, the unexplainable but unmistakeable regret in her eyes hurting more than the mocking reaction he probably would have received from any townspeople other than her. "Will you keep an eye on Neal? I'll go back and wait for you at the end of…"

He turns around while he speaks, wanting to get over with his retreat as quickly as possible, wanting both of them to be confronted as little as possible with the limitations of his ever so weak body.

"Mr. Gold, wait!" she cries out, pointing to the safety line overhead and the rope which connects it to the safety harness he's wearing. "The line moves downwards. I don't think you necessarily have to climb; you can also just  _slide_."

Following her gaze, he realizes that she's right, that gravity will take him to the next part of the course even if his own limbs won't. Oblivious to everything but this revelation and her encouraging smile, the landlord lowers himself until his full weight is carried by the harness rather than his own legs.

Momentarily forgetting about the considerable distance between himself and the ground, the landlord pushes himself off the platform with his good leg, gaining enough speed to slide smoothly right past the net, towards the librarian.

His sense of triumph is replaced by one of shock however when it dawns on him that he has been too uncharastically enthusiastic, heading towards her too quickly. There's no way he'll be able to prevent himself from smashing against the tree trunk around which the platform he's speeding towards is built… indeed, he won't be able to prevent himself from slamming into  _Miss French_  if she won't get off the narrow surface very soon.

"Miss French, step aside!"

Once he has called out the warning, there isn't anything he can do other than close his eyes tightly and mentally brace himself for impact, for there is nothing for him to hold on to other than the line of his own harness.

But instead of the unforgiving hardness of the tree he was moving toward, or even the horrified scream of the librarian when he smashes into her, there's nothing but a gentle bump which brings him to a standstill, along with a sudden solid but not unpleasant pressure on both his upper arms.

"You're on the other side, Mr. Gold," comes the sound of her voice, which shouldn't be as soothing as it is. "You're perfectly safe."

Horrified, the landlord realizes that his eyes are still closed, his hands are clinging pointlessly to his harness… and Miss French has positioned herself between him and the tree trunk, her arms outstretched to grasp his upper arms to bring him to a standstill, effectively preventing him from slamming either into the tree trunk or into her by, in a way, using her own body as a shield of sorts.

"Miss French, I… Thank you."

"You're welcome," she cheerfully says, as if there's nothing remarkable about what she just did. "Now let's get you properly back onto the course, shall we?"

Only then it dawns on him that he's in fact not on the platform along with her, but still hanging in midair a few inches in front of it. In fact, his legs would have hit the wooden beams if she hadn't held him back, for he was too busy trying not to panic to realize that the safety line at this point moves further downwards than the actual obstacle course itself.

But before panic can strike after all, along with the question how on earth he is going to climb onto the platform without further humiliating himself, the librarian offers two helping hands once more. She must be stronger than she looks, for the petite woman easily hoists him up far enough for him to place both his knees on the platform when he gratefully takes them.

It seems rather appropriate that he ends up sitting on his knees in front of her, but once again she doesn't take advantage of being considerably more in her element than him. Reeling both because of the crash he just only narrowly escaped and her underserved helpfulness, he doesn't object when she continues to assist him. That's how he ends up with her gentle, steadying hands holding on to his sides to help him back into a standing position.

"Shall we continue?" she asks, looking at him as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

"Let's do that," he replies, almost grateful for the distraction - and the fact that the next part of the obstacle course appears to require crawling of all things.

Had he known in advance that this foolishness would demand him to scurry forwards on all fours, Mr. Gold probably wouldn't have gotten started in the first place. But now that they've reached the most distant edge of the course and especially his legs are still shaking with adrenaline, it's nothing but a relief to be able to crawl after the librarian.

His suit is utterly ruined by the time he tentatively reaches the other side of the several narrow pipes, his face too probably covered in mud, but he's oblivious to it when she offers him her hand once again to help him up.

Indeed, none of this feels nearly as undignified as it actually is for him when the librarian encourages him with bright smiles and beaming eyes and kind hands, as if he isn't the most feared man in town - as if he isn't wholly unloveable.

Still, he is reminded soon enough exactly of who and what he is. She tenses when his hand is still in hers and he guiltily pulls it back, realizing that a long forgotten part of him held on to her for much longer than necessary, let alone polite - only for her to take his hand right back in her own.

"This part looks a bit tricky."

Only when she gestures at the zipline above their heads, it dawns on the landlord that her sudden tension appears to be due to the next part of the obstacle course rather than him, even when he's in such close proximity to her. Unlike the zipline at the end, this one isn't all that long or steep, but it ends on another narrow ledge rather than on the ground.

"Is it be preferable to you if I go first and assist you onto the next platform?" he asks, overcome not only by a sudden urge to help her once more, but also by an unexplainable need to prolong their time together here.

"You don't mind doing that?" she asks, smiling at him - and still holding his hand - in a way that would make him go through the entire course with no security lines whatsoever.

"I don't mind at all," he says, finding himself smiling back at her, even when making his way to the very edge of the platform.

Having learned his lesson from the last time, Mr. Gold carefully slides down the zipline to the next platform, not nearly reaching the same high speed as he did last time. The tree that the wooden beams are attached to only slowly approaching, he takes the chance to glance back at the librarian.

He finds that she's still smiling at him and there's something about her expression, along with the way he moves gently through the air, that makes him feel like he's actually flying. The sense of triumph when he only lightly bumps into the tree which marks his destination is almost immediately overtaken however with the knowledge that his next task will be considerably more important now that  _she_ rather than he has to reach the platform safely.

Indeed, alarm rises within him once more after all when Miss French appears to have lost all of her earlier reluctance now that he is awaiting her at the end of this particular obstacle. She practically  _jumps_ towards him, racing in his direction with considerable speed.

The landlord couldn't care the in the slightest however that she knocks the wind out of him when they collide, her arms going around him like he is the lifeline rather than the steel rope which she's attached to. To his bewilderment, she doesn't flinch or tense when he instinctively places his hands on her waist for additional support.

That's how he finds himself with two armfuls of Belle French, her upper body pressing none too lightly against his and her face buried in the crook of his neck and shoulder. All of this only puzzles him more when she doesn't move away immediately, instead opting to remain right where she is despite her safe arrival and the complete lack of distance between them.

His thought process comes to a sudden standstill because of her nearness, but his senses are treacherously eager to conclude how warm she is, how  _soft_ , that her scent is thoroughly intoxicating… and that she makes no move whatsoever to get away from him.

"You're… you made it, Miss French. You're standing safely," he announces, awkwardly patting her on the back in attempt to tell her that she can let go of him even when there's a part of him that wants to stay with her like this forever.

Rather than moving away from him as quickly as possible now that he has reminded her of her arrival, the librarian makes a noncommittal sound and, of all things, appears to hold on to him yet more tightly.

If he didn't know any better, the landlord might think that she feels safer now than when she isn't standing on a ledge halfway a tree trunk… that she feels safe because of  _him_.

That notion is a ridiculous one, of course, and to something that's both relief and frustration she slightly removes herself from him after all before he can try to think of another way to tell her that there's no longer any need for her to hold on to him, for as far as there was an actual reason for that in the first place.

"Are you ready to continue?" she asks, taking his hand and squeezing it lightly.

"I… I am," he stammers, noticing only now just how very blue her eyes are, how beautiful the flush on her pale cheeks.

The rest of the course passes in a daze, the twitches deep inside of him caused by exercising at such heights paling in comparison to being in such close proximity to the wonderful woman who Miss French turns out to be.

Then again, he's hardly aware of the way he climbs and crawls, like he were two decades younger and in possession of two working legs, when the librarian is there to encourage him and assist them. That's why it's a downright disappointment when they almost reach the end of the course, where Neal is waiting for them like he promised.

"One more challenge to go," she says, nodding at the zip line in front of them, this one leading down considerably lower than the one they conquered before.

"Indeed," he mutters, not caring about those particular aspects at all when faced with the reality that the delightful time he spent with Miss French will come to an end very, very soon.

"Can I go first?" Neal asks, looking at his father with hopeful eyes.

"Better not," the landlord replies, forcing himself to consider the safest way to get his boy back to the ground rather than on how very lovely the woman at his side is.

"How about I go first and Neal goes second?" she offers.

"Is that all right with you?" he asks, inwardly hoping that she indeed is, for it would be the best solution to have an able-bodied person on the ground while his son is rushing down there, while he himself remains on the obstacle course with the boy until Neal makes his way off it.

Still, he hasn't forgotten at all that they wouldn't be here in the first place if the librarian hadn't gotten stuck on the course when she conquered it on her own earlier this afternoon.

"I'm perfectly fine with that. I feel braver since going through the course with you, Mr. Gold."

 _So do I_.

It seems impossible that  _he_ would have that effect on anyone, let alone on someone already so courageous as her, but there's something in her smile that wholly convinces him.

"What about you, Neal?" he asks, wanting his boy to agree to the proposal as well. "Do you agree with going after Miss French?"

"I do," he says, the boy's enthusiasm luckily appearing to be barely diminished despite his father not allowing him to go first.

"Well then," she beams at them, "here I go!"

Just like that, she enthusiastically hurls herself off the final platform, ziplining downwards for at least thirty feet. Despite his strangely optimistic, almost elated mood, Mr. Gold doesn't fail to look closely at her descent, determining that the angle and thus the speed decreases towards the end of the zipline, allowing her - and with some luck, him as well - to smoothly get her feet back onto the ground and detach the harness from the security line.

Neal goes next, cheering loudly along the whole way, bringing yet another smile to his father's face. The landlord doesn't hesitate either, simply jumping off the ledge as well as soon as Miss French has helped his son out of his harness and has guided him off the course.

Mr. Gold would have loved to close his eyes during the descent, to savor the feeling of carefreeness when the wind blows through his hair and the sun warms his face. But more than anything, he wants to remain looking at the librarian while he races back to the ground, her smile only becoming wider when he approaches her.

Because of that strange sense of euphoria, he realizes far too late that he has leaped with highly unusual enthusiasm once again. His joy turns into panic when it dawns on him that he's going way too fast once more, that there'll be no way for him to make the transfer from the air to the ground without crashing into the sand, not with his leg being as useless as it is.

"I've got you, Mr. Gold!"

Both mentally bracing himself for impact with tightly closed eyes and being saved by Miss French is something that happens with alarming frequency today, but he hasn't nearly gotten used to it yet. Before he can tell her not to be ridiculous - he may hardly be tall and heavy, but carries definitely more weight with him than her own, petite self - she has stepped right into his path, at the very point where his weight will have to be transferred from his harness and the cable overhead to his two legs.

There is a crash this time as he collapses against her, but that has all but been forgotten when he opens his eyes again eventually. He doesn't quite know yet how or  _why_ , but it turns out that he has fallen right on top of the librarian. Rather than being disgusted - or hurt - she smiles at him.

"Are you all right?" she asks.

He nods shakily, not trusting his voice even to return the question if only for the sake of politeness when he realizes that there's barely any space between their faces - in fact, there's none at all between their chests, and the rest of their bodies - and that his waist turns out to be cradled by her thighs.

It can't have escaped her attention either, but rather than push him off her or inform him of her discomfort in any way, her smile only widens. It draws his attention to her lips, especially when she licks them. She looks so… inviting all of a sudden, as if there isn't anything remotely wrong with the way he has her accidentally but still very undeniably pressed against the ground.

"Miss French…"

He meant to apologize for unintentionally tackling her to the ground like this, just like he intended his voice to be firm yet quiet and kind… everything except for the hoarse way the words do come out, the way he falters when he looks into her eyes,  _stares,_ floating weightlessly.

She is beautiful, so incredibly beautiful, and for some reason accepting of him and his son -  _affectionate_ , even. Her hands are on his sides and she's touching him, lightly but most certainly  _touching_  him, and she's all goodness and brightness and…

Her gaze is drawn to his mouth and only then he becomes aware that he's licking his lips. But rather than looking away, it truly seems that she is staring too, tilting her head a little to align it with his. If he weren't any other man he would think that she might be considering doing more with his lips than only looking at them.

"Papa? Why do you look like you want to kiss Miss French?"

Mr. Gold is harshly reminded of reality when he finds his son standing right at their side, looking down at them more with puzzlement than anything else. Inwardly cursing himself, the landlord gets back on his feet as quickly as his bad legs allows him, not caring that he has to get onto his knees first to manage it.

Whatever it was that was going on between Miss French and himself, it couldn't be possibly be what he stupidly,  _foolishly_ thought what it was in a moment of weakness and shameful sentimality. The dream is over, never mind that he shouldn't have dreamed of paradise in the first place.

"I'm sorry, papa," Neal says in a small voice, his boy's face falling as he realizes that he just interrupted something.

There's no way he can think of anything he might say to her or to his son. He doesn't know to which one of them it would be more difficult and embarrassing to attempt to explain his behavior, although he should definitely at some point thank Neal on his bare knees for preventing him from doing something truly disastrous with -  _to_ \- Miss French as well.

As it is, he instinctively steps away from them, wanting to  _hide_ and not come out again for a considerable time… only for him to be reminded far too late that he hasn't removed the harness he's still wearing from the security rope, which is almost at ground level at this end point of the obstacle course, but still very much there.

The landlord may have thought that he already was thoroughly humiliated, but that feeling increases tenfold when the sudden pull of the harness at his back causes him to stumble. Rather than falling down, he is saved once again by Miss French, who moves faster than he thought anyone could to wrap her arm around him in order to stabilize him before he actually falls down.

"You know, Mr. Gold, you don't have to get both of us up in a tree if you like to hold me or be held by me. You… well, let's just say you don't have to leap off a ledge to get on top of me, either."

The landlord is expecting anything from her except for implicit approval, let alone what appears to be  _encouragement_. She may have spoken softly so his son wouldn't hear them, but there's no denying what she just said - and that she keeps her arm around his back even when he has refound his balance and can stand on his own legs again.

"Miss French, do you want to have dinner with us? My papa is going to make  _awesome_ pasta tonight, you'll love it. He always makes too much anyway, so there'll be plenty to eat for all three of us."

This time, the landlord doesn't know whether to be grateful or not for his boy's interference, but either way he doesn't want the librarian to feel any pressure whatsoever to accept the invitation.

"That's very kind of you to say, but I'm quite certain that Miss French has better things to do than…"

"Actually, if you don't object, I'd love to join you and your son for dinner," she replies, looking at both of them while that beautiful smile of hers appears once more.

It gives him hope, hope for the time they're apparently going to spend together tonight, and hope for whatever may happen at later points in time. It persuades him to stop denying and second-guessing, if only for tonight.

"I… it'd be an honor, Miss French. I'd really like you to have dinner with Neal and I. Since I presume the afternoon is almost over by now, would you like to come with us straight away? I'd be very happy to give you a ride."

"That'd be perfect," she cheerfully says, detaching the security rope from harness he has already forgotten about once more.

"Then let's go!" Neal exclaims, watching the proceedings with big, intrigued eyes.

Just like that, the three of them head for his car together. When Miss French questioningly brushes her hand against his, the landlord dares to take it in his own.


	4. Chapter 4

Mr. Gold couldn't have possibly predicted this morning that he would be making his way through an entire obstacle course - and enjoying doing so - with his son and Miss French, let alone entertain her in his house. But here they are regardless.

All three of them freshly showered, they are preparing dinner together. Cooking with his son is something the landlord always enjoys, but the circumstances are yet more special and pleasant now that the librarian insisted on joining them.

Then again, it's a good thing that he has made pasta with Neal so often, for Mr. Gold is quite certain that he's relying solely on muscle memory now that she works at his side. It's a shock in itself to have any woman in his house, let alone one so very lovely. Not to mention that she's wearing one of his own pajamas.

He wholly agrees with her that her used sporting clothes would be uncomfortable to wear now that they are in his home, impossible even now that they are in his laundromat at this very moment. One of his pajamas and a pair of his son's socks for around her small feet seemed the most suitable clothing for her to wear instead.

Especially after the physical contact they accidentally shared during their highly unexpected afternoon at the obstacle course, seeing her in his clothing like this makes the landlord wish for things which shouldn't even occur to him.

Yet, those thoughts are the least of his distractions now that the two of them are working next to one another in the kitchen while Neal is setting the table in the living room. For some reason, she is standing closer to him than necessary and for a reason he dare not name, the landlord himself is more than eager to accept that closeness and initiate some of his own.

"Do you cook like this often, Mr. Gold?" she asks, brushing her elbow against his while she's cutting leek.

"I do, yes," he replies, trying not to shudder at the highly unfamiliar and addictive contact. "It's an enjoyable activity to me in its own right and Neal loves to help, which makes yet better."

"Before I got to know you, you wouldn't have struck me as the type who likes to prepare elaborate meals," she says conversationally. "But now it makes perfect sense… and I'm very glad that I get to try your skills for myself. I can't wait to find out what it'll… taste like."

His mind turns out to be as treacherous as his body when it conjures a variety of highly inappropriate images in response to her doubtlessly innocent meaning.

"I've never done this with anyone else before," he finds himself saying while checking on the pasta, if only to give himself something concrete to do. "I can't wait either to find out…"

He glances at her from the corners of his eyes, finding that she was doing the same thing. She lowers her gaze immediately and he mirrors her again as well, inwardly cursing himself while hoping with all his being that he isn't making her uncomfortable.

At the same time, the landlord can't help but wonder whether it's a good thing that she has apparently wondered about him. Despite his better judgment, he _hopes_ that she thinks about him and that such thoughts are positive, especially now that she's preparing a meal with him in his house as if she belongs there.

"I'm sure it will taste delicious," she says, their eyes meeting again.

Surely it's just his imagination that her words seem meaningful and her gaze suggestive.

"I'm sure it will be," he mutters, quickly lowering his gaze again.

"Where did you say the pan for the sauce is?" she asks with a casualness that seems to conflict with her earlier tone.

"Right here," he says, gesturing at the cupboard above his head.

He reaches for it himself, fully intending to getting it for her. That seems the logical course of action after all, if only because he is closest to the object that she needs. But before he has even opened the cupboard, the impossible woman steps unceremoniously in front of him, between the barely existing space between the kitchen counter and himself.

She isn't a large woman by any means, but she thoroughly fills up the highly limited space between them. Gasping at their sudden nearness, Mr. Gold takes an instinctive step backwards to give her some room, to prevent the front of his lower half being pressed against the back of hers. He probably should retreat further, make certain that their bodies aren't touching any longer at all, but he can't bring himself to do it.

In fact, there's quite a lot he can't refrain from now that they are this near to one another once more, this time in a considerably more domestic and, indeed, personal setting. Her hair is tickling his face and he eagerly lets it, barely managing to hold back a moan of appreciation when the subtle scent of his own shampoo mixed with her natural clean scent reaches his nostrils.

He is going to have to make certain to find a way to get the pajamas back to him before they'll be washed, just like he is going to have to decide whether he'll ever be able to forgive himself if he were to bury his face in the fabric now that it has been worn by this impossibly lovely woman.

"I got it, thank you," she says, looking over her shoulder at him with a gaze that makes him melt while she steps back to her previous spot, as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

Having forgone his tie and suit jacket while they're preparing dinner, he feels almost naked as they continue to work side by side. Although there's no reason for them to touch at all, she keeps bumping her shoulder against his and brushing their hands against one another. If he didn't know any better, the landlord would think that she's touching him on purpose, touching him for the sake of it… because she somehow _likes_ that sort of contact between them.

No matter how unlikely it seems, that truly seems to be the case when she slides in his direction once again, looking meaningfully at the spoon he just used. Rather than getting a clean one from the drawer she's standing right next to, Belle moves around him to grab the spoon he discarded earlier.

When she moves back to her previous spot, she rests her hand on the back of his thigh, right beneath his buttock. It is terrifyingly wonderful, and he has no idea whatsoever how to reciprocate, or even how he might react without displaying too much eagerness - or too little, just in case this isn't what it can't truly be.

_Seduction_.

The notion is a ridiculous one, of course, but no matter how he wrecks his brain, Mr. Gold can't think of another way to describe what she is doing to him - and how he is reacting to her himself, unpracticed as he is.

"It seems I can't keep my hands off you," she says, her tone almost but not quite casual in a way that he can't make sense of, just like her words can't possibly mean what he might be tempted to think they do. "I hope you don't mind."

"I… I don't mind at all, Miss French," he brings out, frantically wondering what she's trying to tell him. At the same time, a usually not noticeable part of him wants her to know to at least some extent what kind of urges she evokes within him, if only to warn her. "I can't do so either… my eyes, that is."

"I wouldn't mind either if you couldn't keep your hands off me," she replies, his appeal for caution somehow appearing to have the exact opposite effect. "In fact, I'm hoping for that."

Unexplainably, _foolishly_ wishing to tentatively return the favor, Mr. Gold instinctively reaches for her as well without any plan whatsoever. He realizes that he was probably meant to at least _pretend_ to do something actual functional only when his hand has already tentatively landed on her waist, her warmth seeping into his palm through the fabric of his pajamas.

But the fear that he has indeed majestically ruined everything is gone when she smiles at him with obvious if incomprehensible approval, as if she _enjoy_ _s_ that he seeks her out like this, solely for the sake of touching her.

"Do you see something you like, Mr. Gold?" she says, looking up at him with what appears to be sudden shyness.

Her tone implies that she knows the exact answer to that question… and that it doesn't bother her in the slightest - that she in fact, somehow, _likes_ the knowledge that he can barely keep his hands and his eyes to himself, as if he is anything other than a loathed, middle aged cripple who should know better.

"I do," he admits, if only because he can't possibly deny his attraction to her now that he is drawn to her like this.

There's so much more he'd like to say, but his usually adequate mind can't come up with a single way to tell her of his affections, let alone find a way in which he might find out if she somehow feels the same way about him, if only to a small extent.

"Maybe you can help me with something, then," Belle says purposefully.

" _Anything_ ," he whispers roughly, not regretting that response even when the woman he undeniably barely knows looks yet more intently at him.

"Try this for me?"

He doesn't understand what she's talking about… or at least, not until she moves her finger through the sauce she was making and offers her tomato sauce covered digit to him. Only when she all but presses her finger against his lips and nods insistently, he understand what she's telling him.

Or at least, he may not see _why_ she would want him to experience _this_ with her, but at least he gets what she'd like him to do. Although he can't figure out her motivations, what she's wordlessly asking of him is very much what he would like to do himself as well. Never mind that both her offer and his tendency to comply with it makes no sense whatsoever.

Still, Mr. Gold closes his eyes and takes her messy finger into his mouth, groaning at the intimacy of the highly unusual act. Or at least, he _thinks_ it is unconventional, for he has very little experience with anything relating to requited attraction.

The tomato sauce which he samples from her finger with his undeserving tongue is by far the best he has ever known, but that exquisiteness fails in comparison to the taste of _her_. He lets her finger slide out of his mouth after a few seconds only because he fears that he will go too far after all if he were to savor her the way he secretly wishes he could.

"So what do you think?" she asks after another few seconds of silence, looking at him expectantly.

Mr. Gold vaguely recalls that she asked his opinion on the tomato sauce she let him taste, but the sauce itself is the last thing he can think of right now.

"It's fine… more than fine," he mutters, not quite looking at her and having no idea how _this_ particular part of the strange dance between them is supposed to go. "It's… it's from beyond this world."

He has no idea what might have caused it, but there's _something_ that must have led her to lean in to him the way she does, her eyes impossibly but unmistakably flickering towards his lips for a none too brief moment.

"Mr. Gold…"

Despite the formal way she addresses him - only now he realizes that she doesn't even _know_ his first name, that practically no-one does - her tone is what can only be described as throaty, sultry almost, and he likes the sound of it far more than he should.

"Belle…" he rasps in response, instinctively leaning towards her a little.

His life has been put upside down ever since he climbed onto the ladder to assist her on the obstacle course. It was barely a few hours ago, but he doesn't recognize his own life any longer now that she's here in his house, smiling and… well, if he didn't know any better, he would think that she is _flirting_ with him.

His world makes yet less sense when she reduces the space between their faces to mere inches, closing her eyes and questioningly angling her head. All he can do is blame the adrenaline which must still be lingering within him to provide bravery of a kind the landlord has never known before.

After all, that's the only reason that he closes his eyes as well and closes the last distance between them, effectively pressing his lips against hers. No matter how unlikely it seems, Belle and he are _kissing._

Later, much later, he'll come to conclude that the kiss is no more than a chaste brush of trembling lips. In the moment itself, it seems like so much more than that, his entire being reeling with the intimacy she is willing to share with him even as he still can't believe that this is actually happening.

It isn't surprising at all that Belle is the one to withdraw, but to his ever growing bewilderment there's no sign of disgust or rejection on her ever so beautiful face.

"Did you enjoy that?" she asks softly.

All he can do is nod furiously in response.

"Good," she adds, "that's exactly what I hoped."

Before he can ask her whether she enjoyed their kiss as well - which seems a whole lot less likely - she all but propels herself into him, wraps her arms around his neck and crashes her mouth against his.

More than ever before, he wishes that he would be the opposite of the kind of man he actually he is: handsome, strong, daring… the sort of man who would be able to sweep a woman off her feet. As it is, he clings to Belle with all the despair that's inside of him, clumsily returning her kiss to the best of his limited abilities.

His knees have been buckling since the moment their lips touched, but as she miraculously deepens the kiss, his legs become yet less more useless than usual. Both thrilled and shocked that she doesn't let go of him, the two of them stumble through the kitchen, finding what must be the small table that stands there for mostly decorative purposes.

Instinctively and with a strength he didn't know he had, Mr. Gold hoists her onto the empty and horizontal surface without breaking their kiss. She locks her legs behind his lower back and he breaks the kiss after all when she pulls him firmly between her thighs.

His body reacting in ways he didn't think it could, he groans his pleasure against the side of her neck, his hips bucking into hers on their own accord. He barely knows what he's doing or even what's happening between them, except that she couldn't possibly want to do _this_ with him. But she undeniably holds on to him, urging him on and kissing his throat while he clumsily moves his mouth along her neck.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise, but it's an unpleasant shock regardless when Belle tenses after all and forcefully withdraws from him.

"We have to stop!" she whispers urgently.

"I'm so, so _very_ sorry," he immediately says, the realization fully crashing down on him that he should never have done what he just did.

After all, _of course_ she doesn't actually want any of this. The landlord takes another step away from her for good measure, looking at her with pleading eyes as it dawns on him that he in all likelihood just ruined both their friendship and the tiny chance there was they might ever have more than that.

To his horror, Belle doesn't even look at him, as if she can't stand the sight of him any longer. But when he turns around to follow her gaze, he finds that the reason she wanted them to stop might have nothing to do whatsoever with him and what they were doing.

"Hello, Neal," he says, awkwardly acknowledging his son's presence while he folds his hands in front of him as discreetly as he can.

Mr. Gold doesn't know what is worse: the fact that the boy walked in on him and Belle or the fact that he had momentarily forgotten about his son's existence in the first place.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you," Neal says in a small voice. "I didn't mean to be seen, but… you left the fire on."

The boy gestures at the stove. The landlord's cheeks become yet redder than they probably already are when he realizes that the air around them smells vaguely of burnt food, only then recalling that Belle and he were cooking before they got carried away.

"Thank you very much for putting out the stove," he says as kindly as he can, smiling at his son in gratitude when it dawns on him that the kitchen - or the entire house, for that matter - might as well have burned to the ground if it weren't for his son's interference. "You did the right thing."

"Thank you, Neal," Belle says as well.

To his relief, the boy looks remarkably more at ease than before now that the two of them have reassured him.

"You're quite a safety hazard today, Miss French," Neal says good-heartedly, making an abrupt end to any relief that the landlord felt. "Papa is usually very good at saving and fixing things, but he gets rather clumsy around you."

"Well, luckily we got you," Belle says cheerfully, his panic decreasing slightly when she doesn't seem to be upset by his boy's careless remarks.

"I'll… Shall I go to my room until you'll call me for dinner?" the boy asks, more subdued this time, looking at them questioningly.

She hops off the table and Mr. Gold briefly closes his eyes, wondering if he will ever get a taste again of the magic that just transpired between Belle and himself.

"I don't think there'll be much dinner left to get ready," she remarks when she lifts the lids of the pans, the smell of burnt food increasing. "How about I talk to your father for a short while to decide what we'll do about dinner?"

"I'll go to my room in the mean time," Neal says, racing out of the kitchen before he has finished speaking.

Belle makes a helpless gesture when she turns to face the landlord again.

"I'm so, so sorry. About Neal, I mean. I… well, I must admit that I had forgotten he was setting the table in the living room and that he could return to the kitchen at any moment. All of this is my fault."

His shoulders sagging, he looks at the mess on the stove… anything rather than facing the woman who effortlessly made him forget about everything and anything.

"I'd definitely say it's both our fault," she says, coming to stand right in front of it. "Regarding dinner… I must admit that I'm not very hungry anymore. Or at least, not for food."

He doesn't see what she's talking about, what else she could possibly be hungry for, especially after their exertions at the obstacle course. Understanding comes crashing down on him however, right along with disbelief, when she places her hand carefully but purposefully on his chest.

"What about you, Mr. Gold?"

For a while, all he can do is stand there and stare at the impossibly lovely woman who touches him so intimately and lovingly. She must be feeling that his pathetic heart is _racing_ at the highly unfamiliar contact, but she simply smiles at him.

"If you like, I can ask Ruby to pick Neal up and get him something to eat at Granny's. Maybe he'd like a few things to drink afterwards as well. We could have your house all for ourselves for a few hours that way."

"He would love that," the landlord murmurs in appreciation.

Her last sentence dawns on him only after a few seconds. He stares at her with ever disbelieving eyes, his heart beating yet faster right beneath her palm at her implication.

"I would love that as well," she says quietly, resting her other hand on his side to stroke it lightly.

"If Miss Lucas doesn't object to keeping an eye on my son the whole time he's under her supervision, I would like that as well," he brings out, telling himself that spending some time with Belle without having his son in the house would be very good if only so that the two of them can have a talk about their relationship without the risk of being interrupted again.

"I'm going to call Ruby right now," Belle says, beaming at him.

Mr. Gold feels shaken when she steps away from him, only realizing to what extent his world is spinning when she's no longer right there to anchor him. He's somewhat aware that he must be rather disheveled, that his body is still thrumming with all sorts of wonderful but equally unfamiliar and somewhat terrifying feelings.

It seems like no time has passed at all when Belle returns to him in the kitchen with a small smile. He most certainly doesn't feel like his head has become any clearer or his body more relaxed.

"Ruby just picked Neal up," she says, coming to stand in front of him again, trailing her fingertips carefully down his chest in a way that leaves him gasping. "She promised not to bring him back for at least three hours and that she'll ring your doorbell when she brings him back to give us a head-up."

While he's still processing her words and the fact that the two of them will be all alone together for such a long time, Belle bites her lip in a positively sinful manner and reaches for the tails of his shirt, pulling them out of his trousers in response to his breathless nod.

"So, Mr. Gold, how would you like to spend the next three hours?" she whispers, sliding her hand beneath the dress shirt she just pulled free.

His eyes falling shut on their own accord, the landlord can't help but groan at the contact, the sensations of her fingertips on his bare skin leaving him quivering.

"I'd say that a bedroom would be the by far… safest location for us right now," she adds huskily, her clever fingertips inching beneath the edge of his trousers. "Although I have to say that I realize only now that I don't have any protection with me. Do you have something?"

"Protection?" he mutters weakly, blaming his current state of very distracted mind on why he fails to see how safety harnesses and carabiners can be of use in his house.

"Condoms," she says, her smile faltering while she withdraws her hands, as if he has said or done something which has dissuaded her of the incredible, but very welcome path she was just on.

"It didn't exactly occur to me to take condoms with me when I went to the obstacle course. But now I feel that we might be needing them we after all."

"Belle, I…" He shakes his head, trying to make sense of what she's saying… to acknowledge that this incredible woman isn't only somehow happy to kiss him, but would apparently like to do a lot more than that with him as well. "I don't have anything either."

"That's a pity," she says, to his ever growing bewilderment genuinely disappointed.

"I hope we can talk," he says, reaching for her as well to have something to hold on to, to make sense of his world now that it's spinning far too rapidly. "About… about _us._ About what's happening between us. I don't want to go too fast… I don't want to _ruin_ anything."

"I don't want to go too fast, either," she says, linking their hands and squeezing encouragingly. "It's a very good idea to talk about what's happening. I hope I didn't make it sound like I want this to be a one time thing. Because I don't."

She looks questioningly at him, silently asking him what _he_ is looking for in their budding relationship. His first line of thought is that he would love to have her in his life like a friend and a mother figure to his son. And one day, Mr. Gold would very much like to be her lover.

However, he is still half convinced that none of this can possibly be reality _and_ he is terrified that he will accidentally scare her off sooner rather than later, so he doesn't actually tell her that.

"I… I very much hope that we can spend more time together in the future," he says very carefully, scrutinizing her face.

"I'd very much like that as well."

"And in case we're done talking tonight…" he dares to mutter, feeling that it's only fair to let her know upfront that he isn't only hoping for a platonic relationship, "I'm very much interested as well in doing more than conversing. I… I would be more than happy to just kiss you again."

Although Belle _beams_ in response to his words, the landlord bites his tongue as soon as he has spoken, wondering how on earth he managed to imply that there's anything 'just' about kissing her. She doesn't seem to take offense though, only smiling wider at him.

"Don't be afraid to change your mind about only talking and kissing," she easily says, winking at him in a way that sends fire streaming through his veins. "We could always… _touch._ That said, I stand by my suggestion to find a bedroom to get comfortable."

Mr. Gold nods breathlessly, wanting nothing more than to explore whatever it is exactly which appears to be blossoming between them… indeed, to be kissed and touched by her and to have his kisses and touches be welcomed by her in return.

Then again, he reminds himself that they should be going slowly at all times in case something disastrous might happen… which is not all that unlikely, really, for the mere notion of retreating to his bedroom with this kind and _gorgeous_ young woman makes his head spin.

Still, there's nothing but gentle longing on her face when she takes a step towards the hallway, the way she holds onto his hand another anchor in a world which isn't the same as the one he woke up to this morning.

"Which way to your bedroom?" she asks softly.

"The third door on the left," he replies hoarsely.

Despite his doubts and fears, there's nothing but hope and eagerness in Mr. Gold's steps when he follows her to his bedroom. He is increasingly convinced that the two of them will find a way to make their relationship work… that for once not choosing the safest option will be the best decision he has ever made.


End file.
